


The Twists of Fate

by Yminga



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-07-31 11:57:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20114728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yminga/pseuds/Yminga
Summary: Five ways Sam and Kurt could have gotten better acquainted but didn't, and the one way they did.





	The Twists of Fate

**1\. Audition**  
  
“Ah, Mr Hummel, thank you for coming so quickly. Mr. Evans, Mr. Hummel is a sophomore as well and one of our best students, he’ll show you around here. Don’t hesitate to ask him any questions you might have.”  
  
Sam turned to face the guy that had entered the Principal’s office and felt a bit anxious as he instantly compared their attires. He knew just enough about fashion to realize this Hummel kid followed it, judging by his perfect hairdo and what looked to him like designer clothes, and if this was a preview of the style most people used here Sam just knew he was going to stick out like a sore thumb. The faded white and blue T-shirt he had decided to wear because it was the most comfortable he owned and first days in new schools were always a bit nerve-wracking suddenly felt shabby instead of lovingly well-worn and he found himself wishing he had listened to his mom and gone for something a bit more formal instead. He nervously ran a hand in his hair to at least try and make it behave, grimacing as he felt how dry the lemon juice had left it.  
  
Principal Figgins obviously felt he had done enough for Sam and turned back to his papers, leaving both boys to awkwardly hesitate a little before saying goodbye and exiting the room. Sam looked at Hummel, a bit wary, but didn’t detect anything else in the kid than the reflection of his own guardedness, which was a bit strange – it was like Hummel expected Sam to attack _him_ in some way, and it didn’t make much sense.  
  
It was this hint at uncertainty, no matter how unexplainable, that made him brave enough to shove his hand forward.  
  
“So, uh, hi. I’m Sam Evans. Thanks for, you know, agreeing to show me around.”  
  
“And I’m Kurt Hummel; it’s a pleasure to meet you. Please don’t thank me, it really is no bother at all.”  
  
In spite of Kurt’s formal tone he had visibly relaxed at the introduction, enough to smile a little at Sam, who found himself smiling in return.  
  
“We still have half-an-hour before the first period, shall we visit the main rooms you’re going to need to be able to find? Have you seen where your locker is yet?”  
  
Sam answered he had so they immediately started a quick tour of the school, which was much smaller than Sam’s old one, making awkward small talk all the while. He explained all about his dad’s job and his transfer and learnt Kurt’s father ran a tire shop in which Kurt regularly helped, which didn’t exactly fit in with what he had seen of the boy so far but was really cool. A slightly uncomfortable silence threatened afterwards so he seized the conversation topic that had never let him down in his all-boy high school.  
  
“So, is the football team here any good?”  
  
Sam thought he heard Kurt mutter “a jock, figures” under his breath, but that didn’t make much sense so he ignored it.  
  
“It’s not exactly great, although there are some good players. I’ve also heard they were going to have a new coach, so that might help.”  
  
“Oh, that’s lucky for me, he’ll probably have no set notions of who should play what.”  
  
Kurt just nodded in agreement, having seemingly lost the slight ease he had gained during their previous talk, and Sam found himself inexplicably desperate to make sure he didn’t retreat further.  
  
“So, uh, do you know when the try-outs are? Are you going to try and make the team?”  
  
For some reason his words did the trick and made Kurt smile at him once more.  
  
“Ah no, I don’t think it’s such a good idea. I actually played a bit last year, as a kicker, but I dropped the team when the coach made us choose between that and Glee club.”  
  
“Glee club? What’s that?”  
  
The last of Kurt’s defensiveness immediately faded away, and his tone was suddenly enthusiastic as he answered.  
  
“Our show choir club; there’s a competition every year, we lost at Regionals last year but this time I’m sure we can get to Nationals – and they’re in New York, can you imagine? But more than that, we’re all misfits of some kind in the club, and it has become a kind of second family at school. A support system of sorts.”  
  
Sam couldn’t help but smile: the brunet’s excitement was catching. Kurt threw him a side-glance.  
  
“What about you? Do you enjoy singing?”  
  
“Well I’ve never really sang in front of people before, but yeah, I think it’s cool. I play a little guitar too. You?”  
  
“I play the piano…mostly simple tunes, though; I’ve only started lessons two years ago. What about you, are you an autodidact?”  
  
Sam wasn’t sure what Kurt meant by that, so he threw him a vague smile and hoped it would be enough of an answer.  
  
“Sorry. What I meant to ask is, did you learn to play by yourself?”  
  
“Oh, right!” Sam’s smile to Kurt turned grateful at the other boy’s explanation, a bit surprised by his perceptiveness. “Well my uncle was the one to gift me my guitar for my thirteenth birthday and he showed me the basics, but apart from that I did. Well, with the help of the Internet and stuff. I think the piano is way harder to play though.”  
  
They chatted a little more about their respective tastes in music, discovering that even with Kurt’s partiality for show-tunes and Sam’s tendency to mostly listen to whatever was on the radio lately they still shared enough to get a conversation going, mostly because Sam revealed he admired Lady Gaga and always smiled at Disney performances and Kurt showed an impressive knowledge of country songs.  
  
The bell for second period was ringing before Sam knew it and Kurt made him promise to listen to some Musical classics before he led him to his classroom, easily agreeing to look at whatever Youtube videos Sam decided to send him in return. They traded email addresses before separating and the blond found himself smiling as he entered his classroom, suddenly feeling much more optimistic about his new school.  
  
In the next two weeks Kurt and Sam communicated regularly by email, sometimes admitting they liked the songs they were being made to listen to, other times teasingly mocking the other’s choice of music. At Sam’s request Kurt sent him some MP3s of him singing, and though he had already guessed the other teen would be pretty good nothing could have prepared him for Kurt’s pure talent; he shared his sincere admiration with the countertenor, making the usually unflappable boy look strangely vulnerable for a moment before he gave a small flick of his head and claimed he was glad he hadn’t misjudged Sam when he had thought him able to recognize good music when he heard it.  
  
In this same period of time Sam also heard a lot about the Glee club, and the kindest remark by far among those was Ben Jacob’s assessment of one Rachel Berry, the female lead of the club, who was according to him “kind of loud, but incredibly hot”. In face of those critics he admitted, if only to himself, that he probably would have felt wary about associating with any of the club’s members if he hadn’t met Kurt first. As it was, however, he found himself reassessing a lot of what he had thought important before meeting the other boy, starting with the desire for popularity that had made him pour lemon juice on his hair when his family had decided to move, something that Kurt had refrained from pointing out for a whole three days and never let him forget ever since.  
  
And so it was that one month after his arrival in McKinley, Sam Evans declared to his best friend his intention to join Glee club and was left oddly breathless by the other boy’s answering smile, the first real grin he had seen on Kurt’s tired face since Burt Hummel had been sent to the hospital; and even though he was slushied the next day by the guys on the hockey team, he never once looked back.  
  
And when Mr Schuester’s assignment the week after his arrival was for them to pair up for a duet, he immediately turned to face Kurt, wordlessly asking for and receiving confirmation that they were to sing together, Mercedes’s glare at not being asked belied by her irrepressible smile as she looked at the two of them.   
  
** 2\. ****Duets**  
  
“Don’t worry – this won’t take long. I’m…setting you free. You can sing your duet with someone else in Glee; someone that the world deems more appropriate.” Even as he wryly reflected that Kurt had chosen quite an unusual way to declare he didn’t want to work with him anymore, Sam’s heart sank.  
  
He had done his math the second Mr Schuester had explained the assignment for his first week: there were eleven kids in the Glee club, and he’d immediately been convinced he’d be the one left with no duet partner. Kurt’s request had been a godsend, especially considering how talented the other teen had since then proved himself to be, and he probably should have known it was too good to be true.  
  
“Did I do something to offend you?” The words left his mouth before he had the chance to realize how forlorn they sounded, and he immediately wished he could take them back. Yet Kurt looked briefly surprised even as he instantly answered in the negative and Sam, in a split-second decision, sized the wrist closest to him with his wet hand to keep Kurt off-balance, pressing his advantage before the brunet could regroup and continue his probably well-rehearsed explanation. If he was going to get dumped, he at least desired to know why.  
  
“Is it because you think I can’t keep up? I’ve listened to the MP3s of you singing so I know you’re crazily talented, and I’ll be the first to admit I’ve never seriously trained my voice or anything, but please give me a chance.” A truly horrifying thought then occurred to him. “Or did the other boys tell you they actually thought my audition was terrible?”  
  
Kurt’s denial came even faster this time.  
  
“No, no, not at all! Of course not! Finn was really impressed with your rendition of Billionaire, he rambled so much about it he made me regret I hadn’t been there to hear it. No, this has nothing to do with you, I swear.”  
  
Kurt’s eyes drifted to where Sam’s hand was still circling his wrist so he hastily let go, a bit embarrassed by his own forwardness. Kurt’s answer had only made him more confused, however, so he kept on questioning his sudden change of heart.  
  
“Why then? What did you mean by someone more appropriate?”  
  
Kurt seemed momentarily discomfited before defiantly meeting his eyes; Sam, both curious and apprehensive, steeled himself for what was coming, knowing the other teen was finally going to be completely truthful.  
  
“I meant a girl. Or a straight guy. Or even Mr. Schue, since apparently anyone would be a better option.”  
  
Several things clicked into place then, and okay, perhaps he was a bit of an idiot, but in his defense he still hadn’t gotten used to the rampant homophobia of McKinley High.  
  
“But you didn’t seem to care two days ago, so what changed your mind? Did Finn talk to you too?”  
  
“What do you mean, too?”  
  
“Well he rambled a little yesterday on how singing a duet with you was going to get me killed or something. I figured he was exaggerating quite a bit, but it also let me know he had been kinda deceitful when he told me Glee club would make me into a God around here.” Sam let a slightly awkward chuckle escape, but Kurt seemed too hung up on his first sentence to react.  
  
“He told you this would get you _killed_. And Quinn told me you got slushied yesterday. And yet you still didn’t plan on cancelling? Or did you decide you wouldn’t join Glee club after all and therefore made it a moot point?”  
  
“I’d told you I agreed to sing with you, a bit of corn syrup in my hair wasn’t going to change that.” It was the answer he had given Finn and he thought it was a pretty cool one, one that made him look honorable.  
  
It also wasn’t the real reason, so he gave it another try.  
  
“Plus I feel really thankful, you know? My family has moved three times in the past six years and it’s not always easy being the new kid. That’s why I wanted to be popular, so I’d be part of a group and so I wouldn’t be picked on. So yeah, you asking me to partner with you felt pretty good, dude. And you’re really great, so I wouldn’t have been surprised to win, and that would have been _awesome_.”  
  
Kurt just stared at him, apparently completely flummoxed, and his stare made Sam realize anew that he was currently completely naked and wasting a great deal of water. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask Kurt to meet him in the auditorium later to prepare for their duet so he could wait for the brunet’s departure to leave the stall, but then he remembered the other boy’s flirty confidence as he had approached him by his locker and even here in the shower room, leaving Sam blinking in surprise both times, and decided on a little pay-back.  
  
Faking an ease he didn’t feel – in spite of his extra half-hour at the gym today he suspected the Doritos he had eaten yesterday evening to console himself after his shitty day had gone straight to his ass – he cut the water off and left the shower stall, reaching for a towel he had hung up a few feet away. He heard a slight choking sound from behind him and had to fight to repress a smile even as he turned around, holding the towel around his hips, to find Kurt with his face resolutely turned towards the wall and his cheeks conspicuously pink.  
  
“So it’s settled, right? Do you have time to practice right now or should we meet tomorrow?”  
  
Kurt automatically turned to face him again and Sam smiled overtly as the blue-green eyes followed the path of the water drop he could feel tickling his skin, falling from his soaked hair and down his chest to seep in the towel he was still trying to tuck in around his hips. He didn’t know what he was doing exactly, only that he felt both nervous and strangely energized, his heart beating just a little too loud.  
  
“I-I think tomorrow would be better for me, actually,” Kurt answered with a stutter Sam already knew to be quite uncharacteristic of him. “We can both just stay in the choir room after Glee club, it’s easier this way.”  
  
“Right,” Sam nodded even as his arms fought to find his shirt’s sleeves.  
  
“And Sam?”  
  
He finally managed to put on the slightly too tight T-shirt, turning an interrogative look towards the doorframe where Kurt was standing.  
  
“Thank you.”  
  
And then Kurt was gone and Sam was left alone in the shower room, smiling at the empty air like an idiot.  
  
** 3\. ****Furt**  
  
“Can I have this?” Sam identified the voice as Karofsky’s and turned his head in the direction it had come from, made vaguely curious by its strange quality – quieter than usual, a bit raspier. His eyes widened as he saw the large boy standing very near Kurt: he still didn’t completely understand the complex social system of McKinley, but he was pretty sure the two were anything but friends. He hesitated briefly, mainly because he hadn’t interacted often with the brunet since the duet fiasco and wasn’t sure it was his place to interrupt, but the glimpse he caught of Kurt’s face convinced him he had better do something.  
  
He crossed the corridor in two steps to join Kurt by his locker and bumped into Karofsky in the process without consciously meaning to, not particularly looking for conflict. Karofsky just sneered dismissively at him, seemingly content to leave Kurt alone after receiving what he had asked for – a glance told him it was a wedding cake’s topper, which was a bit surreal to see in the jock’s hands.  
  
“Kurt? Are you alright?”  
  
Said boy slowly raised his eyes towards Sam, the most heart-breaking expression on his face, and slightly shook his head, his whispered _no_ almost inaudible. His voice sounded like it came from very far away and Sam grew instantly anxious, not liking the almost vacant look in the teen’s usually vibrant eyes. He was a bit hesitant as he brought his left hand to rest on Kurt’s shoulder, afraid it would do more harm than good, but it immediately appeared he had made the right decision; Kurt seemed to uncurl a little and to really see him for the first time.  
  
“Sam? Sorry, I…”   
  
Kurt’s voice was definitively shaking and Sam immediately decided to get him far from the bystanders’ curious eyes, guessing Kurt wouldn’t appreciate realizing he had shown vulnerability in public once he came back to himself. He spied the door to the choir room in the corner of his vision and used the hand he still had on Kurt’s shoulder to gently tug him in its direction, knowing Mr. Schue always forgot to lock it during day time.  
  
As soon as they were in the familiar room, the door safely closed behind them, Kurt started to crumble before him: there were still no tears on his face but his breathing was rapid and he seemed to be curling onto himself, his slender hands dropping to clutch at his knees.  
  
Feeling pretty panicked himself Sam resorted to his winning strategy by putting both of his hands on Kurt’s shoulders, but it looked like it wouldn’t be enough this time.  
  
In desperation, Sam stepped forward and hugged the other teen to him tightly, one arm encircling Kurt’s shoulders and the other dropping to his lower back. Kurt went rigid against him and for a few seconds they were frozen in this slightly awkward position, but then the smaller teen let out a great sigh and sagged against him, feebly raising his own arms to encircle Sam and burrowing his head into the blond’s shoulder. Looking for reassuring words but finding none, Sam contented himself with making ridiculous shushing noises and tightening his hold on Kurt, occasionally stroking the deceivingly soft hair tickling his face.  
  
They stayed this way for a while, Kurt’s breathing first growing a bit ragged as he allowed himself a few tears and then slowing as he got calmer, until he had regained enough of his composure to make himself break the comforting hug, softly pushing on Sam’s shoulders to separate them and doing his best to give him a smile, hoping his eyes weren’t too red.  
  
“I’m so sorry for this, Sam, I didn’t mean to-” blubber all over your letterman jacket, Kurt had intended to say, but he cut himself abruptly off when Sam brought up one long finger to press against his lips. It occurred to Kurt that their faces were still very close together but he didn’t move, deciding instead Sam could be the one to back away if he felt uncomfortable, even as he wondered what it was about the blond boy that always made him so daring.  
  
Sam stayed where he was.  
  
“It’s okay, really – there’s nothing you should be sorry for. Are you alright?”  
  
Kurt had to bite the inside of his cheek to avoid making a spectacle of himself _again_ at the sincere show of concern, nodding in answer to Sam’s query because he didn’t quite trust his voice.  
  
“Do you need me to kick Karofsky’s ass?” It was such a boy’s offer and it reminded Kurt so much of his dad that he let a small laugh escape instead of retorting he didn’t need anyone to protect him, even though he really didn’t. He was just fine.  
  
“No it’s okay, thank you. I’m almost certain it wouldn’t make any difference anyway.”  
  
Sam pressed his fascinating lips in a thin line, silently acknowledging Kurt’s point. Kurt waited for him to ask what had happened, why Kurt had freaked out over an apparently insignificant event, but he didn’t. He felt thankful, because he didn’t know what he could answer if Sam did ask him. _Karofsky almost _stroked_ my chest, and it felt worse than a hundred pushes against the lockers ever could?_ Or perhaps_ he made a sharp movement to steal my wedding cake’s topper and for a stupid, agonizingly long second I was _so _sure that even though we were surrounded by people he was going to grab my face and force his lips onto mine once again that I felt a bit like dying?_  
  
Kurt’s breathing had started to quicken once more as he dwelled on what had happened: ironically, he was brought back to himself by two large hands gently framing his face, and it should have made him flinch but it didn’t because for some reason he felt safe in Sam’s presence, safe at school for the first time in a long while.  
  
“Kurt, I’m not sure what’s happening there, but you’re going to be okay, I swear. You’re not alone anymore, and I promise he won’t touch you again if I have to escort you from class to class, alright?”  
  
It was a ridiculous idea for all its attractiveness, unrealizable in many ways, but somehow Kurt couldn’t bring himself to say so to Sam’s earnest green eyes staring at him, so he just nodded mutely instead. Sam smiled at him in return and for a guilty moment, just a second really, Kurt stared at his mouth and wondered what kissing Sam would be like, Sam with his large lips and soft eyes and seemingly infinite care and tenderness. He imagined it would feel rather fantastic, safe and warm and happy, like being hugged had felt like but stronger, and for a second he felt such longing that it took his breath away. He broke away from Sam’s touch then, afraid that his thoughts would somehow become apparent to the other teen, and attempted a smile in return.  
  
“Thank you very much for everything, Sam Evans. You’re a very good person. I’m sorry, I think I’ve made us miss the first ten minutes of our classes, but we should still be accepted in if we go now.”  
  
For a few seconds Sam just stared at him with an unreadable look in his eyes, making Kurt wonder if his thoughts had indeed been written on his face, but then he cheerfully agreed with him, holding out Kurt’s bag to him and reaching for the door handle.  
  
Sam made a point of dropping Kurt to his class, even though Kurt was rolling his eyes at him and the corridors were totally empty, and he was somehow there once again when Kurt left the classroom fifty minutes later. They were both going to Glee club anyway, Kurt reasoned: there was no way Sam had been serious when he had made his promise to him. This didn’t mean anything.  
  
Sam, however, was there the next day, and the one after that. Kurt wondered what Quinn was thinking of this, but apparently Puck had taken the opportunity to eat with her on both days and she didn’t seem to mind too much. He tried protesting, horrified at the thought of driving a wedge in Sam’s relationship, but the blond just shrugged and quietly admitted he didn’t think they were made for each other anyway. Kurt didn’t answer, too busy quieting the small whisper of hope in his heart.  
  
But he found he couldn’t repress the smile growing on his lips.  
  
** 4\. ****Blame it on the alcohol**  
  
Sam was rather enjoying the Glee club’s party, mainly because so far this year it was the first he had been personally invited to, rather than just tagging along as Quinn’s or Santana’s boyfriend. It would have been even better if he hadn’t been designated as one of the drivers alongside Finn and therefore was one of the two persons sober in the room (possibly three – he didn’t think he had seen Kurt drink anything yet), bemusedly watching as his friends got drunker and let go of their inhibitions. At least it was entertaining, though he had to make sure someone was always between Santana and him because he knew from experience seeing him (or Brittany, strangely enough) when she was drunk always made her start crying hysterically, and though he could bear with it when he was inebriated himself it was quite discomfiting to live through when he wasn’t.  
  
So he was sober and laughing with Kurt and Finn when an intoxicated Blaine took a hold of the tall teen’s arm and declared his profound enthusiasm for their brotherly bond.   
  
He was sober and frankly amused when they all sat down to play spin the bottle and Puck leant heavily on Mike’s shoulder, almost nuzzling the other boy’s neck in a way that made him wonder if he could get his phone out of his pocket quickly enough to take a picture of the scene – this was some serious blackmail material.  
  
He was sober when the bottle pointed towards him and Brittany leant to dexterously kiss him, sober enough to understand Santana’s jealous reaction wasn’t an answer to his participation to the kiss but rather to whom he was kissing, though he stayed silent in the face of his realization, deciding this could wait for tomorrow.  
  
He was sober when it was Rachel’s turn to play and when the bottle stopped facing Blaine, and he immediately looked towards Kurt because one didn’t have to be a genius to know he thought rather highly of his new teammate. Sam thus saw him laughing and clapping as Rachel grabbed Blaine’s T-shirt and brought their lips together, and then he saw the most heartbreaking expression form on his face as the kiss went on, a mixture of pain and horror that emphasized Sam had to do _something_.  
  
He was still sober when he decisively seized the empty bottle resting in the middle of their circle, cutting off Rachel’s announcement about a duet and receiving a drunken pout from the diva. He was just trying to move the game along, to distract Kurt and get him to forget about what had just taken place – and considering Rachel had apparently intended to ask Blaine to sing with her, he hadn’t acted a moment too soon.  
  
He hadn’t really intended for the bottle to stop in front of Kurt, but that worked too.  
  
Artie seemed to find the situation hilarious, laughing happily and clapping a little, while Puck protested that Sam had already been kissed once and it wasn’t fair for him to go for another round. Mike tried to consolingly pat the head still resting on his shoulder but missed Puck’s mohawk and found his ear instead, which made Tina snort in her drink. Lauren started laughing along even as she clumsily thumped Tina on the back, apparently under the impression that she was choking.  
  
Kurt, in the midst of all this agitation, hadn’t moved an inch, staring at the bottle pointing towards him. He finally raised his head as Sam started to move forward a little, but not to look at the blond, or even at Blaine – rather, he was throwing a distinctly anxious look at Finn, for some reason Sam couldn’t fathom. Finn looked away and Kurt’s eyes finally met his, immediately turning apologetic even as Kurt addressed him in a low voice.  
  
“Sorry about that. I don’t think we actually have to do it - they’re far too inebriated to care whether we’ve really kissed.”   
  
“Uh, it’s okay?” His confusion, concerning both what Kurt could find to apologize for in this situation and how he could seriously think the others would let them leave without at least a peck on the lips in spite of the way they were all laughing and watching, made his reassuring statement into a question. That turned out to be a mistake; Kurt looked away once more, looking even more uncomfortable. Sam cringed as guilt cheerfully stabbed him in the stomach, immediately trying to make up for his clumsiness.  
  
“It’s not exactly a hardship, you know.” He had made his tone low, playful, to make Kurt look at him again, and it worked perfectly. Before the other teen could find other ways to mess with his head, he hooked two fingers in the collar of Kurt’s red shirt and tugged until their faces were almost touching, barely hearing Mercedes’s cat-call.  
  
The first thing he felt was the surprised breath Kurt let out, a small puff of air that made him smile even as their lips met; as a result, their first kiss was rather clumsy, barely more than their mouths teasingly brushing against each other. Sam reflexively brought his hand up, treading it in the surprisingly soft hair and tilting Kurt’s head just so as he leant back in, completely forgetting the reason they were kissing in his desire to get this right.  
  
As it turned out, getting it right was the least of his concerns; if anything, kissing Kurt, feeling him actually kiss back, his insanely soft lips pressing back against his with enthusiasm, hearing the slight moan he gave as Sam caught and nibbled on his lower lip, shuddering as Kurt’s tongue daringly traced his upper lip in response, felt far too right.  
  
The others’ cheers finally reminded Sam of where they were and what they were doing as he went in for a third kiss and he hastily pulled away instead, staring mutely at Kurt, suddenly painfully aware of the fact that not a single drop of alcohol had been drunk between the two of them tonight.  
  
“I stand corrected – here’s our new duet combination! Come on guys, give us some sound!” Rachel’s overly excited voice broke whatever had been building between them and finally let Sam tear his eyes away from Kurt’s as he went to face their host. He had every intention of turning down Rachel’s offer, as uncharacteristically generous as it was, but as words tumbled from his mouth he was astounded to discover they held no rebuttal.  
  
“I do owe Kurt a duet.” He simply said instead, his voice a bit hoarse.  
  
And as Kurt blinked in surprise and slowly started smiling at him, he found his apprehensiveness was gone, replaced by a sliver of pure anticipation and the feeling of finally, _finally_ belonging.  
  
** 5\. ****Prom Queen**  
  
“…Sam Evans!”  
  
Surprise probably wasn’t the reaction the people who had just made him Prom King were expecting, but Sam suspected it was the only emotion his face was able to register just then. He tried for a happy smile even as he made his way from where he had decided to stand on the stage, but feared it looked more like a grimace. It made absolutely _no _sense. Sam was the new kid. He was on the football team, sure, but he also was in Glee club, which should have done more than enough to negate their championship victory. For mercy’s sake, he was pretty sure more than half of the students watching him make his way to the microphone were discovering his identity only now!  
  
Okay, so perhaps that was a slight exaggeration; Santana’s “vote Santevans!” campaign had been ruthlessly efficient, after all, and even though their poster had consisted in a giant picture of Santana with just a small one of him in the down-right corner, the sheer number of times it had been printed and hung up probably made up for it.  
  
He still wasn’t sure why she had abruptly changed her mind three weeks ago – he was almost certain her creation of the bully-whips and her plan to get Kurt back in McKinley were supposed to pave the way for a joint candidature between Karofsky and her, but she had eventually asked Sam instead, and even though they weren’t dating anymore he had accepted, figuring it couldn’t do much harm and the chances of them winning were next to zero.  
  
Obviously he had underestimated Santana’s popularity, if she was able to make him be elected King alongside her, he mused even as Principal Figgins jokingly pretended not to hand him the golden scepter and he smiled a little in return at the small man. Even though his family’s recent troubles had made his quest for popularity in his new high school the least of his worries, he tentatively decided that the results were a good thing. Santana would hopefully be a bit nicer now that she had been elected Queen, and two members of the Glee club being declared royalty couldn’t hurt in their continuous campaign to avoid being slushied. And so it was that he found himself facing his school comrades with a smile, asking himself for the second time this evening why he had thought the bolo tie was a good idea and really hoping he didn’t have to make a speech.  
  
And then Principal Figgins announced the results for Prom Queen, and his smile abruptly died.  
  
Being in front of the stage, he was in a prime position to see Kurt as the light shone on him, to see his face display first incredulity and then betrayal as the announcement sank in. He saw him look around at the students who had turned to watch his reaction, saw him understand just how deep this treachery ran, how much hate they had expressed in the secret ballots that day.  
  
Sam wanted to kill every single last one of them.  
  
He knew he couldn’t, but he also knew he had to do something, anything. Kurt wasn’t going to stand this for long; already he was glancing at his side, looking for a door to escape, and Sam instinctively realized that if Kurt ran away now, he would never forgive himself.  
  
“Kurt!” A voice ran out, breaking the oppressive silence, and Sam was surprised to discover it was his, that he had seized the microphone in front of him to call his friend’s name out. Everyone’s eyes were on him, and more importantly Kurt’s eyes were on him, so he did his best to smile as he held out a hand in a clear invitation to join him.  
  
He thought he could almost hear the debate going on in Kurt’s mind, over whether his desire not to give in to those who would happily see him hurt was worth fighting the human need to hide when wounded. In the end, when Kurt started making his way towards the stage, it was probably in large part so as not to humiliate Sam by leaving him hanging, because as resilient as Kurt could be when it came to standing for himself it was nothing next to the strength he showed when it was time to do something for the people he cared for – a fact the blond had become intimately acquainted with in the last few months.  
  
Kurt reached the stage quickly, students parting silently in front of him, and Sam grabbed him with the hand he had kept out, ostensibly to help him climb (even though the stage was ridiculously low), in truth because he hoped his touch could communicate his support. From the way Kurt tried to smile at him, it was appreciated but not enough, and Sam, well...  
  
Sam had certainly never considered himself to be _brave_, but Kurt’s endless courage in face of constant and ruthless adversity had been an inspiration to him ever since their first meeting – it had made him punch Karofsky in spite of his need for the bigger player’s support if he ever wanted to be quarterback again, it had helped him keep a brave face for his parents and siblings when everything had gone to hell, it had convinced him to break up with Santana when it became apparent their relationship was nothing but toxic, even though his worst nightmare was to feel as alone at school as he did at home. And it made it easy, this evening, to use the grip he still had on Kurt’s hand to tug him forward and hug him tightly, ignoring the flurry of whispers that erupted in the crowd watching them. He had wondered if Kurt would tense against him, unwilling to be touched just then, but the smaller teen seemed to melt against him instead, hugging him back just as strongly.  
  
When they separated, Kurt’s face was dry and his eyes had regained their customary determined glint – Sam grinned at the sight, and the grateful smile Kurt shot him in return made his breath catch in his throat.  
  
Kurt then swiftly turned to face the crowd, and Sam wondered whether he had imagined most of the students taking a step away from the stage at his cold expression. Principal Figgins hesitantly got closer, holding the crown, and Sam bit his lip to repress a laugh as Kurt signaled he was allowed to approach with an elegant tip of the head that only confirmed his royalty status.  
  
When the principal announced Kurt’s speech – Sam’s own address had apparently been forgotten in all the commotion, something he was quite thankful for – the blond wasn’t quite sure what to expect. Words of reproach? Of anger? Kurt was always eloquent, and if anyone could find the words needed to make most of the crowd regret what they’d done, it was him.  
  
“Eat your heart out, Kate Middleton.”  
  
There was a stunned silence as the speechless students glanced at their neighbors, an unspoken “did he really say this?” in their eyes, before Rachel broke the quiet, clapping enthusiastically. Mercedes soon followed, then the other members of the Glee club, and soon the entire room was cheering for the extraordinary young man standing proudly in front of them, as unbroken and defiant as ever.  
  
Karofsky looked away from the stage as the clapping went on, full of an emotion he had trouble identifying but that felt a lot like guilt.  
  
Blaine, as for him, smiled ruefully as he watched Kurt standing back to his bullies in a way he had never been able to imitate, something like regret tainting his pride.  
  
And Sam just stared at the boy standing by his side as he finally admitted to himself what his heart had known for a while now: he was deeply and irretrievably in love with Kurt Hummel.  
  
Principal Figgins’s announcement of the ritual dance between Prom King and Queen, in light of Sam’s recent realization, felt a little like a cruel joke. He got down from the stage anyway, waiting at Kurt’s side as the Glee club hastily reorganized a musical number – it seemed Santana was missing and couldn’t partake in the performance of Dancing Queen she was supposed to give alongside Mercedes. Sam absently wondered, even as Rachel assured everyone she had a number she had been working on since she was three that would be perfect for the occasion, what they had intended to do if Santana had won the title, and whether that meant nobody had thought she would win – it seemed kind of harsh. Mercedes protested a little before accepting Rachel’s offer to sing a duet with her, and finally the music started, silencing the rising chatter among the students.  
  
Sam didn’t recognize the song, but he knew one thing: there was no way he could pretend this wasn’t meant to be a slow. Strong excitement and stronger nervousness joyfully tied his stomach in knots even as he stepped closer to the brunet, both hands instinctively dropping to circle Kurt’s waist. Kurt didn’t move for the longest second of Sam’s life and he was instantly convinced he had ruined everything, but then the other teen gracefully wound up his arms around Sam’s neck and put his head on Sam’s shoulder and everything was right with the world.  
  
“Are you alright?” Sam asked in a low tone as they started swaying together, his lips almost to Kurt’s ear.  
  
“I’m fine. Thanks to you,” Kurt answered, and the small puffs of air that left his mouth and tickled Sam’s neck as he spoke made him shiver, almost distracting him from the need to contest Kurt’s assessment of the situation.  
  
“You’d have done it anyway.”  
  
His tone was apparently firm enough that Kurt couldn’t protest, so Sam counted that as a victory. He also wondered whether it was expected of him to stop dancing with Kurt and let Blaine cut in now, but Kurt’s hair was tickling his nose and his smell was slowly filling him and letting go willingly was the very last thing he wanted, so he resolved that as long as Kurt didn’t complain he was going to hold on to him.  
  
“I’m digging the kilt, by the way.”  
  
“Really?” Kurt’s surprise was obviously sincere, not the fake kind people used when fishing for compliments, so he hurried to reassure him.  
  
“Yeah! It’s cool and beautiful and…different. It’s very you.”  
  
Kurt didn’t answer and Sam closed his eyes in self-reproach, knowing he had said too much. He hadn’t even known of his feelings for fifteen minutes and he was already being horribly obvious!  
  
“Thanks.” Kurt finally whispered, and Sam had to hold back a sigh of relief. “And I love your tie. Makes me think of the movie _Pretty in Pink_.”  
  
Sam lit up at the compliment, ridiculously happy.  
  
“I’ve seen this movie! It’s one of my parents’ favorites. What?” He added, already smiling, when Kurt stifled a giggle against his chest.  
  
“Sorry, sorry, it’s just – you’re so enthusiastic. Like a puppy.” Realizing the comparison wasn’t necessarily pleasant, Kurt leant slightly backwards to look Sam in the eye. “But it’s not a bad thing! Actually, I think it’s admirable. You’re…a pretty amazing person, Sam.”  
  
Sam’s throat chose this moment to close, keeping him from answering the compliment, so he contented himself with briefly tightening his hold on Kurt. They finished the dance in a comfortable silence before parting, reluctantly on Sam’s part, staying half-enlaced for a brief moment.  
  
There was a voice inside Sam screaming that this was it, his best shot, that he’d be hard-pressed to find such a perfect opportunity again and that he’d better act if he didn’t want this to be the closest he’d ever be to Kurt. He had already started to lean down when another voice weighted in, armed with the memory of Quinn’s lips pressed against Finn’s, this terrible moment where he hadn’t been able to determine which betrayal hurt the most, and at the last second he changed courses and pressed an awkward kiss at the corner of Kurt’s mouth. He hastily withdrew, meeting Kurt’s slightly widened eyes as he went, and decided on a strategic retreat.  
  
“Er. Thanks for the dance, Kurt. I’d, ah, I’d better find Santana. I think she might wanna hit me a few times for getting elected alone, and I’ve found out it was better for all of us when she got those impulses out as soon as possible. Or else it can get, you know. Dangerous. But hopefully Brittany is with her, so it should be okay. She’s crazily good at calming Santana, I mean I know they’re best friends but it’s really uncanny.”  
  
He was rambling and he knew it, and from Kurt’s bemused smile the other boy knew it too, but Kurt was gracious enough not to mention it.  
  
“Thank you to you too, Sam, and good luck with the dragon. See you later?”  
  
Sam only nodded, afraid of what would spill from his mouth if he opened it again. The reason he pressed his fingers to his lips as he turned away, however, wasn’t born from his need to make sure no unbidden declarations would escape, but rather from his desire to remember the fleeting sensation of Kurt’s skin against them.  
  
And across the room, in an unknowing parallel, Kurt raised his own fingers to his cheek, fighting a losing battle against a smile.   
  
***

**\+ 1. Hold on to Sixteen**

“Hey man, what’s up?”

No matter how many times he had mentally rehearsed his speech on his way there, Sam found his tongue was tied to the root of his mouth. He contented himself with offering a rather sickly smile to Finn, who immediately seemed concerned.

“Come on in. Kurt just made some cookies, they’re all healthy and stuff but they’re awesome anyway.”

The smell in the hallway was indeed rather heavenly, Sam admitted distractedly as he entered the Hummel-Hudson home, but he couldn’t help doubting Finn’s apparent belief that cookies would make everything better. He ended up following the tall teen to the kitchen anyway, figuring it was as good a place as any for what he needed to say.

***

“You’re going _where_?”

Finn’s whole body expressed his incredulity as he span on his heels to face Sam from where he had been searching the fridge for some milk, eyes wide and curiously indignant. Sam looked away and in the process met Kurt’s intense gaze before deciding the floor was probably safer to turn to.

“Back to Kentucky. My parents, they, um, couldn’t find another job in Lima, and we have family there. They’ll help until we can…” Sam made a vague gesture meant to enclose _give the kids an education_ and _afford to_ _live outside a motel_, or perhaps just _get our dignity back. _“Find our footing again.”

Hurrah for euphemisms.

“So you’re, uh, moving from here?”

_Bravo, Finn, that is indeed what going back to Tennessee implies,_ Sam thought a bit unkindly, though he outwardly just nodded.

“And, er, when are you going?”

And there was the clincher.

“Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Kurt exclaimed, obviously startled into reacting. Finn said nothing, just staring at him.

This had been a bad idea, a very bad idea. Sam threw a longing glance at the door, wondering whether he could go now, peripherally aware that Finn and Kurt were having a hushed conversation which eventually resulted in Finn leaving the room, mumbling something about finding some History notes Sam had supposedly lent him as he went.

The tall teen’s departure left behind a silence that seemed unbreakable to Sam, thick enough with tension to make him feel like he was choking on every breath he took. Kurt was resolutely not looking at him, his hands slowly flexing and relaxing by his sides.

“Why?”

The word, suddenly dropped from Kurt’s lips, might as well have been a gunshot to Sam’s frazzled nerves.

“W-what do you mean? I already told you, we need help from-”

Kurt cut him off almost immediately, exasperation ringing clearly in his voice.

“I understand _why_ you’re leaving, Sam. I just wished to know why you didn’t consider it necessary to tell m- to tell us you were leaving before today.”

“I haven’t known for that long myself, just two weeks or so,” Sam tried, briefly looking up and dropping his eyes back to the floor as he met Kurt’s unimpressed stare. “And there were exams and prom and I guess it just seemed like it would bother everyone needlessly.”

“You thought it would _bother_ us?” Kurt repeated slowly, making Sam wince.

“A little, yeah?” It turned into a question in his mouth. “Plus every time I tried to think about it and about how I’d tell all of you, the moment I had to leave seemed to get closer and closer and eventually it was just easier not to think about it, you know?”

Kurt let out a sigh at that, deflating a little from his indignant posture and grudgingly nodding.

Sam waited for him to add something, but he didn’t, so he resumed looking at the floor instead. Who knows how long they would have stayed this way, occasionally throwing glances at each other, if Finn hadn’t made it back to the kitchen a few moments later, his hands conspicuously empty.

Sam wondered then, even as he went to shake Finn’s hand and found himself drawn in a tight embrace instead, if those were to be the last words Kurt and him would exchange before his departure, but Kurt followed him to the door and started speaking once more, although he kept his eyes away from Sam’s.

“How am I supposed to survive Math class now?” Kurt’s tone was deliberately light.

Sam smiled a little; they had gotten used, in the last few months since Kurt’s return to McKinley, to sit side by side in Math and keep a piece of paper between them to scribble notes on, hidden from their dreaded teacher’s hawk eyes. They had almost gotten in trouble more than once, when Sam couldn’t help but laugh out loud at a particularly witty remark from Kurt.

“Who will help Stacie with her French homework?” Sam teased in reply.

“Wherever will I find someone to teach me some more Na’vi?”

“What will I do with myself on Saturday mornings, if there’s no one to send me links to their favorite musicals?”

“Oh don’t worry, I won’t stop sending you those anytime soon – your education is far from over.”

Kurt finally raised his eyes to meet his, even as his voice got serious.

“Actually, I’ll write. Often. And you’d better write as well – emails, don’t worry, I know you’re not a big fan of letters.”

Sam just nodded.

“I’m serious. At least once a week.”

Sam nodded again, feeling his throat close. Kurt fell silent and took a step forward, and suddenly Sam was enclosed in another hug. He immediately raised his arms and closed them around his slender friend in return, not sure whether he was offering or accepting comfort as he embraced Kurt tightly.

The hug went on for a long time, neither boy being very inclined to letting the other go, until Sam felt Kurt slowly break apart from him. They exchanged slightly stilted goodbyes, knowing they had said all they needed to, and then it was time to go.

The past two weeks had been a bit of a blur for Sam, and only then, as Kurt went back inside and closed the front door, did it really hit him; this was it. He was leaving, leaving Lima, McKinley, the slushies, New Directions, Santana’s customary smirk and rare smile, Rachel’s theatrics, Finn’s bouts of anger and of wonderfulness. He was leaving Kurt, who had somehow managed to become his closest friend in the past difficult months.

It was all a bit hard to believe.

***

Sam kept his promise, although it was a near thing on the first week, when he was kept busy moving in his aunt’s house. It wasn’t exactly a mansion, but she lived alone and seemed only too glad to welcome them in her life. And honestly, after living in a cramped room with his whole family, sharing a medium-sized bedroom with an adjacent bathroom with Stevie felt like the height of luxury.

His aunt’s home wasn’t that far away from where they had previously lived, but not nearly close enough to justify trying to see his former friends on the evening, and so it was that after he was finished with his day job, he regularly found himself settling in front of his aunt’s antique computer, typing page after page to Kurt. It would have been pretty embarrassing if Kurt hadn’t replied just as often and in an even lengthier manner, and Sam wondered a bit at all the free time his friend seemed to be having, before remembering – with an unwarranted jolt of exasperation – that Blaine was currently away at Six Flags.

In any case, they kept a regular correspondence, and Sam thought there was something liberating in sharing his thoughts with someone whose immediate reaction you couldn’t see. Actually, he had more than once found himself regretting sending an email a few seconds after doing so, when he had been just a bit too honest, his feelings a bit too raw, but Kurt never seemed to judge him for any of it. Thinking back, Sam realized this had been a constant in their relationship – for all his perceptive and oftentimes cutting statements about people in their math class, Kurt had always been careful not to offer judgment on Sam’s actions or inactions, whether in the “duet fiasco”, as Sam now thought of it, or later, when Sam had shamelessly taken advantage of Kurt’s compassion and helpfulness once his friend had found out about his new living conditions. Truth be told, it was quite ironic that it had taken being apart from Kurt for Sam to understand just how much he prized this quality in his friend.

When Sam thus confided in Kurt – about his fears for the future, Stacy’s reluctance to eat when their aunt cooked for them or even some annoying customers at work, it didn’t only make him feel lighter, as if a burden had been taken off his shoulders; more often than not, it also made Kurt reply in kind. It was never obvious, but Sam soon learnt to read between the lines, especially when it came to Kurt’s boyfriend. Even though Kurt mentioned Blaine only in passing – Sam barely knew him, after all – and always in positive terms, there was an underlining tension in those brief mentions. _Blaine has been keeping busy_, Kurt would write, or _I hope we’ll get to see each other more often than last year, even if we still go to separate schools_.

After this last email, Sam wondered if it was expected of him to encourage Kurt to ask Blaine to transfer. He wasn’t sure he wanted to – any time Kurt would spend with Blaine was likely to be taken out of the time he spent in front of his computer, virtually connecting with Sam – so he just sent some noncommittal encouraging words back. Two hours later, properly ashamed of his egoistic reaction, he went back on the computer and composed another email, adamantly telling Kurt it was well within his rights as a boyfriend to at least ask Blaine to consider transferring to McKinley.

Three weeks and a half into the holidays, Sam had to create a special folder for Kurt in his mailbox, surprised to find they had sent about 60 messages each. Apart from their daily long email, they often sent each other short notes about a point of interest in their day, using emails as a replacement for texting since Sam had stopped paying for his cellphone subscription six months ago. 

Two weeks later, Kurt emitted the idea of using Skype. Sam was strangely reluctant, even though his dyslexia had always made him prefer talking to writing. Emails were their thing now; they had helped creating a sphere of communication in which Sam felt perfectly comfortable, and he hated the idea of the awkwardness that was likely to show up if they tried to talk through interposed webcams. In the end, he apologized and explained his aunt’s computer was much too slow for him to skype with (probably not a lie, now he thought about it) and Kurt didn’t mention it again, apparently happy to continue as they had been.

And so it was that Kurt kept him updated on what happened at school: about Blaine’s decision to join him in McKinley, his fear that he would not make it to NYADA, Rachel’s suggestion to run for school president – which Sam enthusiastically encouraged – Brittany’s dubious help and then her defection. Sam told him about his new school in return: about how the tryouts for the football team had gone, about the way his math teacher was even more boring than the one they had in McKinley, about Travis, the only real friend he had made. In November, he told Kurt before he even told his parents that Travis had talked to him about a mysterious new job that’d pay really well, and Kurt rejoiced with him.

When he realized what this new job precisely entailed, he didn’t mention it at all to Kurt in two weeks, even when his friend asked him about this mysterious offer. He wondered, even as he got more comfortable doing body-rolls in front of the crowd and started raking in more and more tips, what Kurt would make of all this. He toyed with the idea of simply telling him the same lie he had told his parents. In the end, one late night, when he came home with a record 86 dollars in his pocket after a celebratory beer with Travis, he crept up to the small stuffed room upstairs where his aunt kept her computer and sent a one-line email.

_My new job is pretty cool btw…I’m working as a stripper in a bar not far from home._

After sending it, he considered the likelihood that Kurt would think it a joke and wrote another short email.

_My nickname is White Chocolate (lame, I know) and my specialty is body-rolls._

Then he went to bed and fell asleep easily.

Over the next two days, he considered a hundred times sending a quick email where he’d pretend he was only kidding as he waited for Kurt to answer, and he renounced a hundred times. When the answer finally came, he just stared at the unread message for five whole minutes before finally clicking on it, rolling his eyes at himself. It was pretty laconic as well.

_Now I have yet another reason to visit…what was the name of the bar again? ;)_

Sam burst out laughing in relief and promptly replied, sending a much longer email describing every single bonus and drawback of his new job – as well as the address of the bar, of course.

He thought nothing of it for the next month, until one evening when, going through his usual routine, he almost fell from the stage when he saw no one else but Rachel Berry handing him a one-dollar bill, her face modestly bent towards the floor.

He joined her backstage afterwards, finding Finn and Kurt there as well. He could tell, just by looking at the way Kurt’s mouth was twitching, that the brunet was pretty proud of himself for giving nothing away to either of his friends. He thought about being annoyed – a bit of warning would have been nice – but it was so amazing to see him again that he engulfed the smaller teen in a hug instead, remembering only as Kurt let out a small laugh and hugged him in return that he was still half-naked.

The rest of the evening was a bit of a blur. In between admonitions about his job that made him grind his teeth – until he caught the exaggerated eye-roll Kurt sent in Finn’s and Rachel’s direction, at which point he just had trouble not laughing out loud – he got that the three of them were hoping he could come back to McKinley and help them win Sectionals. The whole idea seemed completely unrealistic – even though the offer was tempting, did they really think he could just pack up and leave?

But as they talked, as they easily rebuilt the camaraderie he remembered from his time in McKinley, as Kurt kept sending him small, almost secret smiles, as he learnt that he would stay with Finn and Kurt if he decided to go, the question subtly shifted from whether he would go to how he could possibly make his parents agree. He even found himself thinking it wasn’t impossible, after all – they were still at his aunt’s, so there was no rent to worry about, his mom had a part-time job again, Stacy had warmed up to their aunt, he had a growing amount of money he hadn’t told his parents about, considering it would be quite complicated to explain how he could possibly win so much at the Dairy Queen (as it was, they kept exclaiming on how lucky they were that he had found such a great offer). It was only for a few months, up until the summer holidays, and, well, if he were to be completely honest, it’d feel good to get away. He’d do anything for his family, but he was also exhausted; being part of the adults instead of the kids, worrying about money, working five evenings a week – it had taken its toll, and this opportunity to go back to a time when his first preoccupation had been to reconcile his love of music and his desire for popularity was terribly attractive.

In the end, it was precisely this last argument that won his parents over. Kurt’s presence helped immensely as well, and Sam was glad he had had the presence of mind to catch him by the sleeve when he had gotten up from the table, intending to follow Finn and Rachel out of the room; his parents remembered him as an extremely helpful and mature young man and he left them no doubt that Sam would be well taken care of – he also conveyed, with his usual discretion, that neither Sam nor him would ever let the family’s living conditions deteriorate once more.

And so it was decided; a week and a half after the trio’s visit, Sam said goodbye to his siblings and parents and put his luggage in the truck of Kurt’s navigator. Kurt, who had graciously offered to cross the border again in order to help him move, sent him an excited grin as he sat down next to him, briefly pressing Sam’s hand with his own, and Sam couldn’t help but grin in return at his friend, the doubts that had started resurging in the past week disappearing instantly. At this precise moment, and for the first time in months, Sam Evans, with Kurt Hummel at his side, felt ready to take on anything the world would throw at him.


End file.
